


Measure Up

by allmystars



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Canon Universe, Castiel Is Clueless About Sex, Hand Jobs, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Human Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), M/M, Penis Measuring, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Ruler By The Bed, Shameless Smut, dean helps him out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28700571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmystars/pseuds/allmystars
Summary: Newly human Castiel discovers using a ruler is harder than he thought it'd be.Dean offers a helping hand.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 227
Collections: Dean/Cas Tropefest 2021 Mid-Winter 5k





	Measure Up

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, y'all! Here's a short PWP fic for... I don't know. Do with it what you will lol. Newly human Castiel takes a comment about the size of his dick quite literally and Dean walks in on him checking the facts. Things get a little spicy after that.
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think!

Dean stalks down the hall, wracking his brain for anything that’ll help them. They need information on the Angel tablet, like, _yesterday_ , and it’s only a matter of time before Zeke decides Sam’s not worth the effort.

Problem is, the only place to get intel on the Angel tablet is _on the fucking tablet_.

So, this is where he finds himself, his boots echoing in the halls of the Men of Letters bunker on his way to Castiel’s room. He’s an angel; he’s got to know something, right?

Okay, _was_ an angel, but Dean’s not about to bring that up.

He doesn’t even bother knocking, in too much of a rush for manners, and swings the door open with the words, “Hey, Cas, got a sec?” just leaving his mouth, when he freezes.

Every muscle—every joint and every thought—locks up when he clocks Castiel sitting on the edge of his bed, pants down around his knees, with his soft dick in one hand, and a ruler in the other.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Dean squeaks, his hand still clamped on the door handle as he squints at his ex-angel best friend, fighting the urge to look at his exposed groin.

Castiel jumps, his sharp blue eyes flicking up to meet Dean’s, but his perplexed expression doesn’t shift. “Oh, hello, Dean,” he murmurs, not even a hint of embarrassment in his tone. “I’m trying to measure my penis, though it is proving quite difficult.”

 _Yeah, no shit._ “Okay, but _why_?”

“Well, I was in the Gas n’ Sip this morning and, as you know, I drove the Impala.” Dean’s head snaps up, a scowl tugging at his lips because he most certainly did _not_ know that. “There was a man at the pump that asked if I was compensating for something, and when I asked what he was referring to, he proceeded to insinuate that my—or rather, Jimmy’s—penis is of below average size.”

Dean’s jaw drops—how _dare_ anyone insult his Baby like that? And him, no less? Dean huffs, prickling with anger, but it does nothing to deflate the hard-on he’s got tenting his jeans.

Castiel carries on, waving the ruler around while maintain a firm grip on his dick. “I was moderately certain that, given Jimmy Novak’s stature and large hands, he would be fairly well-endowed, though I can’t seem to read the measurement on the ruler…” He brings the ruler closer to his face, squinting at the faded lines and barely visible numbers. “While you are here, Dean, would you mind giving me a hand?”

Oh God, oh fuck, this is how Dean dies.

All the blood in his head rushes to his dick, and he stumbles as heat blazes through him. He’s sure he’s blushing like a virgin on her wedding night, and shit, his fucking hands are shaking. He takes a deep breath, debating on the pros and cons, but ultimately decides he’d made up his mind the moment he opened the door.

Dean swings it shut behind him.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he grunts, stepping in front of Castiel as his eyes roam for a moment. He fights to shove back his nerves and says, “You’ve gotta be hard.”

“Hard,” Castiel parrots, looking down at his softy and giving it a squeeze—not even a twitch.

“Yeah, you know,” he says, swallowing around the burn in his throat. “Like it was when,” he clears his throat. “When you were with, uh… with April.”

Castiel gives him a dry look and rolls his eyes. “I know what an erection is, Dean.” He tugs on his dick again, the pink head lying, uninterested, between his long, nimble fingers. “I haven’t given myself one before, though.”

Just thinking about Castiel jerking off in the privacy of his own room has Dean’s knees weak, and he’d give his left nut to watch it happen.

_He’s your friend, pervert!_

Right. Right.

“I could give you a hand?” Fuck. Fuck, why did he say that? What happened to _friend_?

Oh, please, don’t go kidding yourself, Winchester.

“Would you?” Castiel asks, wide blue eyes peering up through thick, dark lashes, and holy fuck, Dean’s a goner. “I would be in your debt.”

With that thought in mind, he squats down, putting himself at eye level with what Dean’s sure is at least six inches of soft cock. God, he could just take him between his lips, suck him until he’s hard. It’s _right there_ , waiting for him, and his mouth waters at the thought.

No. _No_. Don’t think about giving Castiel a blowjob. Just don’t do it.

Dean pushes the thought from his mind and grabs Castiel’s dick with a firm grip, his calloused fingers pulling a gasp from the ex-angel’s parted lips, but his cock hardens almost instantly, filling with blood in a few quick pumps of Dean’s fist.

“I—I think it’s done,” Castiel pants, gripping the edge of the mattress like his life depends on it, and the sight of his best friend looking so goddamn wrecked just from Dean’s hand on his dick… Shit, Dean’s never been so turned on in his life.

His cock aches in his jeans, pressing up against the zipper with uncomfortable friction that’s got him cooling down a little. He’s not one for pain during sex, and he’s almost grateful for the sting now, ‘cause it’s the only thing keeping him from blowing his load untouched like a fucking pre-teen.

Shit. Fuck, _shit_. He can’t look at Castiel—not with that flush in his cheeks and the way his eyelids droop with unabashed lust. God, this is going to kill him.

“Sure,” Dean grunts, jerking his chin at the ruler tossed on the bedspread by Castiel’s bare hip. His grip is rough on the ex-angel’s dick when he holds it upright. “Grab the ruler.”

Castiel does, handing it over with trembling fingers, and Dean holds it to the root of the erection clutched in his hand, bending closer to read the measurements down to the sixteenth.

“Uh… eight and a half inches,” Dean murmurs, and fuck… _fuck_ , that’s anything but _small_. He shifts on his feet just thinking about all that hard cock up in his—

“Hmm…” Castiel hums, his breathing evening out now as he reaches for a notebook and writes the number down in a neat, practiced scrawl. Dean drops his hold immediately, though he can’t help but appreciate the way Castiel’s erection—all _eight and a half inches_ of it—bobs and sways, still achingly hard and leaking at the tip. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean chokes, and before he does anything stupid—like get on his knees and beg Castiel to touch him—he gets up to leave. “Yeah, no problem, Cas. Any... anytime.”

He knows he’s walking funny—he can feel it in the way he flinches with every step—but the tent in his jeans has his boner pressed right up against his zipper, the grating friction more than he can handle.

Half way to the door, he thinks _why not?_ Castiel seemed to like the feel of Dean’s hands on him the first time, so why shouldn’t he offer to get him off? It’s only the polite thing to do, right?

“Hey, uh… hey, Cas?” He turns around, heat rushing to his cheeks, but he presses on, feeling a renewed swoop of arousal in his stomach when Castiel looks up with those big blue eyes, his dick still hard and bobbing between his spread thighs.

“Yes, Dean?” The sound of Castiel’s voice almost has a moan slipping from Dean’s lips, but he holds it back, swallowing the lump in his throat as he gestures at Castiel’s cock.

“Did you, uh… did you want some help with that?”

For a moment, Castiel looks confused, his head tilting to the side as he squints up at Dean. Dean huffs, annoyed and more than a little embarrassed by the thought of having to explain what he means, but then Castiel’s eyes go wide, finally catching on to his meaning.

“Oh! Oh, yes, if you would? I’ve never…” Castiel looks down at his dick like it might bite him, and Dean can’t help but chuckle at the virginal angel. “Would you like me to help you as well?”

Dean flushes right down to his toes, though he’s not sure why. Obviously he’s got a woody he could go to bat with, and even the thought of Castiel’s long, nimble fingers wrapping around him has his cock twitching in his jeans.

“Are you sure? Don’t want you feeling like you have to.”

Castiel looks at him with a smile like Dean’s the most precious thing in his world. “Anything for you, Dean.”

Dean ignores that, too flustered by the emotion in Castiel’s eyes to think into it too much, so he undoes his belt and shoves his pants and briefs to his knees without preamble, and flops down beside Castiel.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, just staring at Castiel’s leaking cock like he doesn’t know what on earth to do with it.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Dean wraps his fingers around Castiel’s shaft, feeling the smooth, heated hardness in his palm. His fingers give a little squeeze, more reflexive than anything, but the grunt it pulls from Castiel’s lips is fucking _sinful_.

Without taking his eyes off of Castiel’s flushed cock-head, he wraps the fingers of his other hand around the angel’s, pulling them over to his own aching erection.

Dean lets out a deep, rumbling moan the moment Castiel’s fingers brush the sensitive head. His hips jerk, thighs straining against his pants as he lets Castiel’s hand go.

“Yeah, Cas, just like that. Just— _fuck_ ,” he blurts, throwing his head back as Castiel wraps fumbling fingers around his cock and gives it an experimental squeeze.

“Is that… is it good?” Castiel asks, his words laboured with every breath as Dean’s curled fingers jerk Castiel with an expert rhythm.

“Yeah, Cas. Fuck.” Pleasure burns in his veins, pulsing and building with every clumsy shift of Cas’s fingers. “Now, just… just swipe your thumb over—yeah, _shit_ , Cas. Just like that.” Castiel’s nimble fingers twist and pull, using Dean’s pre-come to smooth the way, and Dean shudders, doing his best to give Castiel the best hand job he can, but it’s so damn hard to focus on anything but the overwhelming pleasure of Castiel’s hand on him.

“Dean, I—” Castiel looks at him, baby blues glassy, his pupils blown as newly-human fascination bleeds through his pleasure. “It feels so… it feels—”

“Good, huh? It feels good?”

“Yes,” Castiel answers, nodding with a frantic twist of his wrist on Dean’s cock. “It’s so good. Dean, I—” Dean gives Castiel’s cock an extra squeeze, forcing a choked moan from his lips.

Sweat beads at Dean’s temples, dampening his shirt at the small of his back, but he doesn’t slow down, even when his hand starts to slip on Castiel’s dick.

Castiel, though, looks so overwhelmed by the whole thing, his shoulders hunched, curling in on himself and looking lost to the whole thing. Dean shifts gears, switching hands as he twists toward Castiel, pulling him in with an arm around his shoulders and burying his nose in the messy, tangled hair on top of his best friends head.

And that’s where he stays, with Castiel turning into his side, his pleasure so intense, he shakes with it, and yeah, Dean’s really fucking pleased with himself, but it’s drowned out by swelling, churning, burning pleasure inside him, and the scent of his own shampoo in Castiel’s hair sends him over the edge.

With a shuddering gasp, Dean comes, jerking and moaning as Castiel follows suit with his own rumbling groan.

Dean pants, sucking in breath after breath as Castiel shudders against his side. “Was that…” Castiel asks, hesitant and hopeful. “Was that okay?”

“Yeah, Cas—shit, yeah it was good. Hell, _great_.” Dean pulls away, looking Castiel in the eyes with a hand on his shoulder as he wipes the other on the bedcovers. “You’re a natural,” he says, flashing a reassuring grin with a cocky wink.

“Oh,” Castiel says, relief colouring every word. He keeps his hand wrapped around Dean’s dick, though, and it’s a _little_ uncomfortable.

“Cas, could you, uh…” He winces when Castiel’s fingers shift, squeezing reflexively.

“Yes?” Castiel looks down at his hand on Dean’s dick, coated in come and fingers still curled around his softening dick. “Oh!” He pulls his hand back, holding it up like he’s not sure what to do with it. “Sorry.”

“Here,” Dean whispers, grabbing a dirty t-shirt from the floor and cleaning them both up.

“Thank you.”

They hold eye-contact for so long, Dean starts to squirm. It’s getting weird, and he needs to go. “Okay, well,” Dean says, standing up and pulling up his jeans. “I’ll, uh… I’ll leave you to it.” He waves at Castiel’s notebook and ruler, a twitching smile turning up his lips, and turns to leave, but only makes it a few steps before turning back to look at his best friend. “Hey, Cas?”

Castiel glances up from his notebook with a soft, sated smile, his too-long hair hanging in his eyes. “Yes, Dean?”

Dean’s cheeks flush as he rubs his hand over the back of his neck, and as ridiculous as it is, Dean’s actually fucking _shy_. He doesn’t even remember why he came in here in the first place—fuck, he’s a mess. “Just give me a shout if you ever need a hand, huh?”

Castiel’s smile widens, delight shining in his eyes as his cheeks flush. “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter at [allmystars_AO3](https://twitter.com/allmystars_AO3)  
> ~  
> Follow me on Tumblr at [allmystars-i](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/allmystars-i)  
> ~  
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